


Hades

by thequeernessofsupers (CharlemagneGryffis)



Series: we are the captains of our souls [4]
Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, F/F, F/M, Gen, Red String of Fate, Soulmates, Supercat Week
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-20
Updated: 2017-04-20
Packaged: 2018-10-21 11:45:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,079
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10684632
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CharlemagneGryffis/pseuds/thequeernessofsupers
Summary: our society is terrible but we live. we keep on living. and eventually, we turn into ichor, blood of gods and titans.





	Hades

 

Kara doesn’t have a Red String. On Krypton, that isn’t okay. On Earth, that isn’t okay. _Nowhere_ is it okay. Humans are revolted by the lack of red ring around her pinkie – she is disgraced and rejected so many, many times. No-one wants to hire a Soulless as an employee, even unpaid. No university wants to take on a Soulless as a member of their student body, even paying double. Kal-El opened her pod, said hello and made his introductions – and then he saw her blank fingers an revolted.

“ _I didn’t think Kalex was telling the truth. Everyone has a Red String_.”

It burns inside, a pit of embarrassment. Kal-El does her the curtesy of showing her where his Fortress of Solitude is and dropping her off at an orphanage, giving her minders his contact information, calling her his biological cousin and only last living relative. Kara hides her hands in the red blanket he’s given her, wrapped around her shoulders, feeling raw and numb. She’s already cried her heart out in her pod and in the Fortress.

Running away is so much easier when no-one actually cares about Soulless.

Gloves are her heaven – there were no gloves on Krypton, everything too hot for extra layers, clothes made of breathing materials both cooling them and hiding them from burning rays that snuck through the invisible sun-shields and thick forcefield enclosure around the cities. On Earth, she can wear gloves and gloves are what keeps her from getting caught when she sneaks into stores after lights-out, dark black hoodie hiding her face. Kara has no doubt that if she’d been bare-fingered, she’d have been found instantly amongst the flurries of homeless children who would give her up in an instant just because no Cupid thought to tie her to someone.

Kara gets by. She does her bits of good when she can, sleeping inside her pod in the Fortress of Solitude when she can afford to fly so far. She doesn’t have the energy, half the time. She’s hungry. Always so, so hungry. She visits Kal-El in Metropolis once, at his work, flitting around hurried paper-pushers and reporters to find him. Lois Lane is a mean woman, degrading and scornful and Kara can hardly believe she’s worthy of the last son of the House of El.

It makes more sense when Lois interrupts their conversation and asks, “ _Who’s Kal-El? That’s Clark._ ”

Kara doesn’t visit him anymore.

The rise of the internet and electronics gives her some leeway in terms of freedom. It doesn’t take her much to learn things – all she has to do it sleep in her pod with the Learning Function active and her dreams are full of lessons. Survival is all that matters and she cries because she hates everything it takes to survive on this planet. Red paint becomes her best friend when she gets enough money to buy it and a guitar, busking in streets with her hair tied in tight crown braids that people take pictures of and try and fail to copy. Her regular listeners give her pocket change and one day, in the dark streets of Gotham, Bruce Wayne drops ten thousand dollars into her case.

It’s enough.

She uses what skills she has to do odd jobs and in Gotham, she finds more work. Despite its darkness, it’s good to her. She finds a garage where a woman born without an arm busies herself, pretending it had been her Red String arm before her Soulpartner died and she got into a car crash. Kara doesn’t look into it, just gaining the courage to tuck her gloves into her pocket when she comes in to work on a car.

At twenty-five, Risa gives her a kiss goodbye and there’s something there for a few months, before they part amicably, deciding to be friends with occasional benefits. Risa’s the one to push Kara into joining YouTube, to get her own channel and play her heart out. “ _If Bruce Wayne gave you ten thousand dollars for your playing, gal, there’s something more than talent there._ ”

Kara plays her guitar with black fingerless gloves and inky oil under her nails. She ties her hair up in complex braids she learnt from the Starhaven Wives as a child and sells art online, separate from her channel – because survival means knowing possibilities and how to avoid consequences, because if anyone realises she’s Soulless then the internet will destroy what small revenue she has outside of fixing cars and busking on the street, because, because, because.

Not to mention all the small donation pages she creates, asking for fifty dollars for her electric bill, asking for twenty dollars to help for her guitar repair. The small print always has a disclaimer, stating that donators can have their money back if the recipient is Soulless. At least Kara never asks for money for food, because if society ever gets any better on Earth and she wants to do a big reveal, she can at least claim that she never pleaded anyone to feed her. Food is a sore subject in America, apparently.

In twenty sixteen, she makes the mistake of covering Sam Cooke.

“ _Cupid, draw back your bow and let your arrow go, straight to my lover’s heart for me, for me;_ ” Kara sings, fingers plucking her guitar strings, Kryptonian strength hidden, always hidden, “ _Cupid please hear my cry and let your arrow fly, straight to my lovers heart for me. Now I don’t need to bother you, but I’m in distress. There’s danger of me losing all of my happiness, for I love a girl who doesn’t know I exist – and this you can fix._ ”

Comments explode, old-timers coming out of the woodwork and claiming she shouldn’t sing that song.

_You should take it down, it’s made for **Soulless**. Don’t tell me you’re a supporter of their freedom?_

Kara kind of loses it and has to put up a new donation page for money to replace her laptop. Luckily, her phone was on the other side of the room and survived her accidental assault on human technology – unluckily, she’d found an alien bar the previous month on a trip to National City to see about a new apartment and stocked up on some fiery alien liquor. More than a little tipsy, Kara replies.

_I’m a supporter of MY freedom, asshole. Why can’t a Cupid just help me out? They do it all the time to other people, when their Red Strings break or corrupt. Why can’t they just fire a new arrow at me – and don’t say they can’t because my aunt was a Cupid and I know how it works. My aunt was a freaking General. She told me how it works. She just couldn’t dictate my life like that because we were related and she was so high-ranked and because all the local Cupids knew that her niece was Soulless they couldn’t touch me. I’d need a freaking Cupid who doesn’t know me personally and who’s higher ranked than a General. Do you know how rare that is? Generals are the pinnacle of Cupids, only lower than those who don’t work in the Red Plane, who don’t ever leave it._

Twitter trends #GetSoullessHigherGenerals and Kara has to deal with so much shit as all those who don’t care about Soulless being Soulless appear out of nowhere, all over the world and support her, everyone else hating her, sending her death threats and even assaulting her on the street.

The attention is overwhelming, for a while, before Kara remembers who she is. _I am Kara Zor-El and you don’t frighten me_ , she thinks when someone comes at her out of the blue in the street with a closed fist. Moving to National City takes her into the heart of a media empire, however and cameras are harder to avoid in the bright, hot sun that reminds her of home. But at least the residents are less violent than Gotham’s.

Clark visits. Kara ignores him, even when he comes down to walk beside her in his Superman uniform, trying to convince her in broken, terrible Kryptonese to hide out in the Fortress of Solitude. She can’t look at him – can’t look at her _family crest_ – and she can’t listen to him mangle her language. _I should have raised you,_ she thinks _, I should have taught you the difference between ier and iuer_. It takes all her strength not to punch him and very little of it to take all her belongings from his Fortress and hide them behind a white sheet in her new apartment, out of sight from anyone who might come through the door – or the window.

She’s walking through National City park when she sees a flash of golden hair and the quick shot of a golden arrow. It hits her in the chest even when she moves out of the way, on principle and a pain courses through her that is matched by the Cupid. Their yells echo across the park and people stop and swarm, a line of sight remaining between them as a visible- _visible!_ \- golden line is seared across the sky.

“Mom!” a child yells frantically, kneeling by the kneeling Cupid and holding her hand. Kara gasps at the sensation of someone resting their hand in hers, holding tight. The Cupid meets her eyes, a beautiful clear blue matched by the boy at her side before her wings appear. They’re ginormous, huge, bigger than even Astra’s – they reach high into the sky, thirty wings, fifteen pairs of golden, shining feathers dresses with metal clasps and silver chains, her accolades proving everything Kara thought about Grounded Cupids wrong.

“You’re not a General,” she gets out, almost choking on her words as the wings flicker, fading out of existence before the line between them turns red, red as blood. Kara watches it with super-powered eyes as it shifts to their pinkies, before fading to almost nothing.

“What just happened, mom? I thought you were going to link her with-” the boy makes a frantic motion east and north, two very distinct directions now that Kara thinks about it. Shaking off the last remnants of pain clouding her head, Kara stands, making her way over to them slowly, holding out a tentative hand to help the Cupid to her feet.

It’s only when the Cupid is standing that Kara realises who, exactly, she now has a Red String of Fate with.

Cat Grant swallows, then motions to herself shortly. “Apologies. I forgot that would happen. It’s been a few decades since I accidentally paired a Cupid with a human…though, you are certainly rather strange for one.”

“I’m not one,” Kara replies quietly, still holding her hand. “What went wrong?”

“Nothing, apparently. I tried to link you with Lena Luthor and Susan Vasquez. I’d already made the modifications to their Red Strings – I’ll have to fill the space left soon. But that’s none of your business – or _yours!_ ” She suddenly turns on the public, glaring with full anger. Her hand goes to the boy’s shoulder – her sons shoulder – and in an instant, they’re flying through gold, red and gold entwined and it’s a beautiful image of criss-crossing patterns, before it disappears and they’re in a strange apartment.

“I’m Carter,” the boy introduces himself, Kara shaking his offered hand. “You’re SpacePuppy!”

“…yes.”

Carter smiles widely at her. “You trended on Twitter so much with #GetSoullessHigherGenerals – it’s the entire reason mom tried to link you into a bond.”

“There is no try,” Cat murmurs in reply, “I did link her into a bond. Just not the one I intended. The Coordinator intervened directly, the prick.”

“Oh, come on,” Carter looks to his mother. “Barry’s not that bad!”

“Barry Allen does not even belong to this universe,” Cat says hotly, completely mystifying Kara before the Media Mogul turns to her. “My apologies for the surprise bonding.”

“No, it’s…it’s fine.” Kara looks down at the red ring around the finger, staring at the little swirls she can see, as if it were actual string. “Thank-you. Even if, uh…even if you don’t want to do anything about it.”

“Now, whoever said that?”

Kara looks up at Cat. “…really?”

Cat smirks, holding her hand all the tighter. “Really. I’m a Cupid, not stupid. I think celebrations are in order, however.” And she looks her up and down, head twisting speculatively. “How do you feel about Chinese?”

Kara beams.


End file.
